The darker twists of passion

Tag Archives: erotic horror

The shake-up in the publishing work as small and epublishers have closed their doors over the last few years has had me in a rather a “flux” state, to put it mildly. I’m still doing a bit of scrambling to get my feet back under me, but I think I’m getting closer.

Unfortunately, with each step I think I’m making, over the last couple of years something else has happened to set me back on my heels.

Since I also have an interest in photograph and some measure of graphic design, I set myself on a learning curve to do my own cover design. Life is all about taking the side roads and curious paths in our journey. What fun would it be without challenges to keep us energized? So, new releases are coming slowly as I travel along this creative learning curve, and adapt to this evolving technological age that changes with every breath. I hope you’ll bear with me.

Body Parts was originally released under my other writing pseudonym, Adrianna Dane, in 2008. When Loose Id closed its doors, sadly for me, I might add, I made the decision to re-release this story under Darcy because it’s really a bit darker erotic horror/gothic-themed and I felt it fit more in line with what I write as Darcy Abriel.

Body Parts is now re-released with a new cover and is currently available on Amazon and as a #kindleunlimited section. I hope to design it for paperback very soon.

Body Parts

An erotic twisted romance to Frankenstein mythology. “…The concept of this story is highly original and the Frankenstein element is very interesting…” one reviewer says. #erotic #gothic #dark fantasy #romance #bisexual

Athan is the embodiment of male virility unbounded: eternal lust designed by and for the pleasure of his makers and their thirst to discover the secret to eternal life. An incomparable Frankenstein creation without flaw, his parts melded by alchemy and science, infused and fed by sexual energies of lust and desire, Athan survives through the acts of pleasure, in all its varied and seductive forms.

Yet Athan is a tortured soul who walks eternally alone, always hungry, forever hunting for his one, true perfect mate, that one person who can accept who and what he is. Not a monster, not a collection of perfect parts, but a man.

Excerpt

Korrie trembled with excitement, as well as fear, as she stumbled into the library the next afternoon. She was still stunned by her discovery. She had taken the morning to delve into some of the shadowy nooks and crannies these older structures seemed to hide, looking for someplace else where documents might have been hidden away. She had even gotten up the courage to go into the master bedroom. And that’s where something very odd had taken place and why she was ready to burst right now.

She wasn’t sure it was a room she wanted to return to any time soon. But it certainly did give her hope that there were more documents in this place to be uncovered — that maybe Paul hadn’t found. Documents that had been hidden by someone not so earthly bound as they were.

In that room, more so than any of the others she had entered that morning, it was as though there was still a presence in residence, hovering just out of sight as she scoured the room. Then the ice-cold breeze she had become accustomed to over the last few days descended, drifting over her like a misty cloud, drawing her deep into its lair. She’d never been one to believe in the supernatural, but after this recent experience, she held a healthy respect for things not seen.

Whatever energy that was in there had drawn her to a silken powder blue and gold chair near the window. Vibrations of sensual excitement spun around her like ribbons of oozing honey, overpowering in its sweet clinging texture, imprisoning her in the sexual atmosphere that now hovered within the room. She could smell the scent of lust that clung to the air. And to her.

Korrie turned to look at the canopied bed and it was as though she could see the imprint of bodies sliding seductively over the covers. Shadows of movement pressing against the bronzed satin comforter; the indentation of a head on the pillow, thrashing wildly.

Then she sensed that someone had once sat in that chair, watched the twining of bodies, the pressing and penetration, heard the moans and the slapping and sucking of heated, damp flesh, smelled the scent of musky bodies. She felt his presence, and it was definitely a man; unable to stop herself, she pressed a hand to her throbbing, feminine flesh. The room grew darker, the lighting subdued, as she concentrated on the bed.

It was no longer her own female flesh she felt beneath her hands, but a large prick at full mast, hot and throbbing, as whoever it was that was watching the display of passion stroked himself. Electrical impulses seemed to emanate from the thick stalk, shocking the palm of her hand, shooting down through the tips of her fingers.

As surely as she knew her own name, she knew the name of the man whose body she now seemed to be wrapped in.

Athan.

She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the male arousal fill her. She felt his hand stroke the heat of his sex, smearing the liquid across the glans. More and more pre-ejaculate coated her fingers as she gripped the massive tool. One hand moved downward as the testicles drew up close to the male body. The hum of arousing energy spiked through her body.

The groans and murmurs of pleasure coming from the bed were clearer now, and she was no longer alone. The past now seemed her present, and her body was no longer female, but male in full, frontal arousal. She gripped the cock between her legs, no longer aware of her own physical form, so deeply entrenched in the essence of this room.

Come join us. She heard the whispered words of a husky, feminine voice.

Blurb:

Olivia once yearned for love and the perfect marriage. She thought she’d found it when she wed sweet, handsome Ethan, never dreaming his romantic demeanor masked an abusive demon. Through her dreams, Olivia found the courage to leave him. Now, on a cold Valentine’s night, still recovering after the divorce yet feeling empowered once again, Olivia enjoys her freedom from love, with no wish to share this otherwise romantic evening with anyone. But freedom comes at a cost, and Olivia’s frozen heart and hungry soul possess a thirst for something she’s afraid to name. In answer to the call she cannot deny, Martin, her vampire mentor, finally returns to claim his chosen mate. And Olivia is more than ready to pay the price for her darkest passions, and to gain immortality. Karma can be a bitch–just ask Olivia’s ex-husband. But will her bargain with a vampire bring her everything she desires on Valentine’s Day?

EXCERPT:

It was a decadent display with scatters of black lace inset at the most provocative places. Olivia reached out to touch the molten creation, wanting to convince herself it wasn’t made of liquid fire, the way it shimmered beneath the lone spotlight above.

She closed her eyes as she absorbed its ethereal texture, imagined what it would feel like sliding against her own skin. But reality broke through. When would she ever have the nerve to wear something like this? Why would she want to? It was a garment meant to entice, and that was something she had absolutely no interest in doing. Her glance landed on her hand, on her ring finger, which still showed a shadow of the ring she’d once worn. Alas, she let her hand fall away and the silken mass drifted back to embrace the shapely leg of the inanimate model posed on the dais.

And yet, Olivia couldn’t bring herself to turn away; her feet seemed glued to the spot. She imagined the look of the man she would be willing to don such a sinful garment for. The perfect man–the embodiment of all she had once fantasized about. Before she’d met Ethan. Before he’d dashed all her dreams with the first punch to her stomach.

A whisper of an image formed inside her head. She tried to shove it away. Her skin grew hot at the thought of the touch of her fantasy lover. For the first time in many months her pussy grew wet at the thought of a man touching her. She fought against the image, tightened her thighs, tried to force the sexual heat back into its frozen compartment.

Olivia whipped around, searching for whomever it was that had spoken in that European-accented, sexy voice.

She saw him standing near the jewelry counter. It had to be him. Exquisitely dressed in a black suit, a white silk shirt. Pale skin, glossy black hair, mesmerizing black eyes. Her heartbeat quickened as she met his gaze. Recognition was just beginning to claw its way to the surface of her mind.

Ethan had been blond with light blue eyes and an all-too-easy smile. This man was nothing like Ethan. Ethan had never looked as dangerous as the man staring back at her from the other side of the store. Ethan’s rages had come out of nowhere, always catching her off guard. This man–no one could ever take for granted. Everything about him screamed dangerous.

Predator.

Run, Olivia, run. Her own voice screamed inside her head.

Too late.

The dressing room, Olivia. Go there now.

She knew him. She recognized that voice. Her whole body recognized that voice, not just her mind. She couldn’t help responding. Primed like Pavlov’s dog. This man was inside her mind. Not a new presence, but one that had remained in hibernation all these many months, the memory shielded from awareness.

He hadn’t said a word. She never saw his lips move. And yet she felt compelled–compelled to go to the dressing room. Compelled to do as she was told. Without question.

“Closing time in fifteen minutes. Please complete your shopping and make your way to a cashier.”

Olivia heard the announcement, but it seemed to bear no relationship to her. Instead she moved toward the dressing rooms. None of the sales clerks stopped her. None of them looked at her as she passed them. She focused on making it to the farthest cubicle from the activity in the store.

Silence. Barely a whisper of sound. Perfect.

Olivia slipped inside, closed and locked the door, shutting out the last vestiges of the voices of the clerks and the echoing footsteps of straggling customers in the store. She closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, then opened them again, and stared into the mirror, gazed at her own reflection. He didn’t have to tell her. This was it. She’d waited a long time. Slowly she removed her clothing.

Olivia dropped her purse and then her gloves. Her coat followed. Her black cotton shirt, her black and white checked wool skirt, her white nylon slip.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror–at the lacy white bra and matching satin bikini panties, the nude colored pantyhose. She took inventory of the scars at her hips, her shoulder, her thigh. The slender expensive gold watch on her wrist. A gift from Ethan after her last stay in the hospital for her broken shoulder. She heard the loud chiming of the antique clock at the center of the store. Cinderella came to mind. Time no longer mattered. She didn’t shudder when a cold draft of air skimmed across her skin, like ghosts trampling across her grave. Her nipples puckered. Excitement mounted.

All of it, Olivia. Every last piece.

She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders, glared at her reflection. No fear. Never again.

Her pussy was still wet, soaking the satin of her panties, her lips engorged with blood, sensitive and puffy. It had been a long time since she’d felt this aroused. A very long time. Olivia’s heart was still safely frozen, but her body–her body was on fire.

Blurb:

In the end he begged to serve the demonic vampire who made him. Maximilian Wolffe was unwillingly turned vampire in 1570. A brutal master should always beware of what he creates.

He claimed her as his servitess. In 1872 Venice, Max and Claudio hunt the streets of Venice. What Max finds is not what he expects–a woman to equal his passion. He claims her and then one day, abandons her. To save her. The memory of his vampiress may be the only thing that saves him from the beast within.

And now he’s back to claim what is his.

EXCERPT:

“To our future, cara.”

She swallowed the sparkling liquid. Max took her in his arms, kissed her and then picked her up and carried her to the bed where Achille awaited.

“You will be the first,” she said as she looked up at Max. “You will claim my virginity in this as you have claimed my blood.”

He looked down at her, his pupils dark chasms growing wider and deeper. And she felt herself falling. She wished he were as easy to read for her as she apparently was for him.

He turned his gaze to Achille. “Unlace her dress,” he commanded. He turned back to Lena, then lowered his head to kiss her. Kisses that were drugging and had her gasping for breath, her body burning. Up until this moment he had made love to her in every conceivable way except one, stopping just shy of breaching her virginal barrier.

The bed shifted as Achille climbed onto it and started to unlace her dress. It drooped down her shoulders. It was Max’s hands that went to the hooks on the front of her corset and released them one by one and tossed it away. Achille removed the bustle and petticoats. Max pulled the chemise over her head, then Achille removed the pins from her hair, allowing a cloud of dark brown curls to spill over her shoulders.

Max slowly removed her stockings, carefully rolling them down her legs. Achille placed kisses along her bare shoulders. Extending one of her arms, he trailed kisses along her forearm, pressed a heated kiss to the sensitive crease at her elbow and down along her wrists. It was Max’s cool lips at the soles of her feet, across the top. Separating her thighs, he kissed his way along her calf, over her vulnerable tendon, sucking each toe into his mouth.

Achille kissed each fingertip. Turning her hand palm up, he spent a considerable amount of time licking across the sensitive flesh, then sucking on first her index finger and then her middle finger.

She shuddered at the exquisite sensations that ran through her from head to toe as these men fondled her, petted her, drove her passion higher and higher.

The two men took a long time undressing her, worshiping each inch of her body. She didn’t know where Max’s clothing had gone, but the next thing she realized he was naked.

Achille sat behind her, bracing her, his large hands cupped her breasts, kneading the engorged, rounded globes. Max had something in his hands and she wasn’t quite certain what they were. Black pearls swung from the ends of what looked like tiny sharp jaws, yet they were different.

Achille cupped one breast from beneath. With his other hand he elongated her nipple She sucked in a breath at the sharp pain that shot to her womb. Her dark nipple stood out prominently, the rosy color deepening. She gasped as Max bonded the pearl to the hard bead.

“Made especially for you, my dear,” Max murmured.

Once the pearls were fastened, Achille smoothed his dark fingers around the areola and the rival sensations that attacked her burned her right through to her core.

She arched up as the pinching sensation altered and became molten lava that poured through her to pool in her vagina. Her breathing grew shallow even as Achille continued to stroke the globes of her engorged flesh. Several times he stopped and flicked a pearl, sending more exquisite sensations coursing through her body.

Max widened her thighs; her labia lips parted. The dark curls covering her mound glistened with her juices beneath the candlelight. Max leaned forward to press a kiss to her clitoris and then licked between her lips. She melted as his tongue swiped over her slit, jumped when he flicked a tongue over her sensitive clitoris. Her reaction was immediate. Her climax powerful.

She had hardly recovered when he fitted himself between her thighs, his cock poised at her opening, the head slipping inside, her body opened to receive him. He rocked slowly against her, shallow thrusts, carefully deepening an inch more each time as he allowed her body to become accustomed to his size.

She rocked against him. Achille’s hands were still on her breasts; the small pearls bobbed. Through her delirium she saw Max look at Achille and nod.

BLURB

(#MMM #vampires #darkfantasy #BDSM #erotichorror)

Two vampires hunt for entertainment-and dinner-on a dark, seductive night. Yum-yum… Vampire blood games require a unique sort of “talent scout.” Claud plays front man for the powerful Silas, ferreting out tasty treats to satisfy the ancient master he adores. And Silas likes to add a special twist to their blood hunts. But it’s not all games, since Claud knows his days as Silas’s lover could be numbered if he fails in his task, and he loves Silas too much to take a chance on failing him. Now, Claud locates tonight’s main dish–a young, handsome hustler named Jimmie. Will Claud’s choice of human playmate “live up” to Silas’s expectations and provide an evening of adventurous, entertaining passion, the vampire way?

EXCERPT:

I entered the darkness of the compartment, the rhythmic rumbling of the train beneath my feet as it winged its way along the tracks. I thought it was taking me home, but in fact, it was leading me to a place far more exciting. Silas turned to look at me from across the small compartment. I know it was small, but in that moment as his hypnotic gaze attached to mine, it seemed far larger.

“Close the door,” he said softly, although I did not see his lips move, it seemed I heard him inside my mind. It was a request I could not refuse.

Once the door was fastened, I remember hearing the snick of a lock and vaguely wondered how it had been accomplished, because I certainly hadn’t been the one to engage it.

Before I could blink, he was on me, spinning me, pressing his lips to mine, driving me back against the door. My mind was a blur, my cock hard as rock, and I could feel his granite length against me as he molded me to him.

I couldn’t catch my breath, nor did I want to as I sucked him inside me. He was pushing at my jacket and then ripping at my shirt, baring my chest, securing my arms above my head.

“Will you be mine, Claud? Only mine?” he whispered into my ear, then nipped the cusp. I felt a trickle of blood slide down my ear. It never even crossed my mind to be curious as to how he knew my name. Nor in the heat of that instant did it matter.

He looked down at me as I stood imprisoned by my own clothing and his bottomless black gaze. I slowly nodded. I remember his smile, the glow in his black eyes that now seemed so very red, so very bright in the dusky, humid closeness of that cabin.

I say he looked down because at that moment he seemed to have grown much larger, dominating me completely. “Then you’re mine, boy. Tonight you belong to me.”

I couldn’t utter a sound. It was as though my vocal chords had been cut off. I felt myself falling, drifting into darkness, and I was only partially aware of what was happening, yet helpless to stop it. Even if I had wanted to.

I felt my eyelids drift closed and my head dropped to the side exposing my neck, and in a sense I was offering myself to him. I no longer felt the coldness of his skin, only the heat of my need to be taken by him.

I felt his wet mouth at my neck, his teeth scored across my skin, down my chest, and settled at a peaked nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth.

I never felt so consumed before as his mouth traveled over my body. I was in a hypnotic trance, a puppet awaiting the commands of the master puppeteer. Something locked my hands above my head, drew me up so my feet no longer touched the floor. I dangled there like a hunter’s prize buck ready to be flayed and dressed. And I loved it. I loved the sense of helplessness. I was so hot and hard I couldn’t stand it.

“Open your eyes, boy, and look at me.”

Slowly my lids raised and I gazed into his glowing eyes. I should have felt fear at what I saw there, but it was far from fear what I felt. Far from it. My heart beat faster. I was mesmerized.

“Do you want me to possess you? You must tell me. I must hear the words.”

Were there any words beyond yes? None that were in my vocabulary at this moment.

I saw the smile reach the corner of his lips, his eyes glowed brighter, casting a red aura across my dangling body. His eyes were glittering black diamonds shaded with crimson–a light that seemed to shine from within, remote and bottomless, and I felt myself falling into them. Dizziness swept through me and I felt the world spinning around me, faster and faster. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. This forceful man held me within his grip and was free to do anything he wanted to me. With my permission.

Red leather straps appeared just above my knees. Straps with rings. A leather collar gripped my throat, chains dangling. I couldn’t begin to fathom how the bindings had gotten there. I didn’t care. He lifted first one leg, pushed it back, drew the chain behind my back, then bound my leg in place and then he bound the other in the same manner, opening and stretching me. My cock bobbed and swayed with the motion of the train. My weight, bearing down upon my bound arms, was painful.

“Very nice, Claud. Very nice indeed. Do you still want to give yourself to me?”

I could feel the stretch on my thighs, the freedom of my cock, the constriction of the leather restraints. My heartbeat quickened. The pain in my bound arms was almost more than I could stand. Each sway of the train bore down on me. I wasn’t certain how much more I could take. I so wanted to come. I wanted him to touch me, to stroke me. To fuck me.

Humanotica, Book 1

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.
Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

Warning: Not for the faint of heart.

As one reviewer said about this story: …an intensely sexual read, with innovative obscenities and novel delights that never cease to amaze…

You’ve been warned…

EXCERPT

“This is the package from Dr. Starlinger?” he asks as he picks up the small parcel from the gleaming surface.

I cringe at the thought of what is inside, but I try to keep my expression impassive.

“Yes, Dominor.”

He studies it almost reverently and then carefully peels back the layers of white cotton. I want to twist away. My stomach roils at the sight of the innocuous-looking wooden box.

“Lovely,” he murmurs as he raises the lid and strokes a finger over the contents. He lifts the small, thick envelope holding the thin silver punch cards—the latest replication of my brain patterns. They’re a duplicate set to that which will be fed into the Core by the doctors. It is mandated by the Politico that all information, whether set to government gold or non-official silver or bronze, be assimilated into the community intelligence of the Core for processing. Not to do so is considered a traitorous act punishable either by Factorium confinement or death.

They appear to be such fragile things to hold the contents of my thoughts, my emotions, the very essence of my human energy. I know there will be more changes from the previous version. There always are; it is inevitable. Even though the doctors don’t tamper with my brain, what they do to my body impacts my mind, so the cards are always etched and studied after modification.

The minister walks to the closet and steps inside. There are secret places hidden within the walls of this estate. I’m not privy to most of those secured rooms, but I know they exist.

I know where he’s headed as he disappears inside the closet. Another hidden door leading to a secret vault. This room alone he’s shown me, when he placed my first memory cards into safekeeping within the vault.

It’s where he keeps these bits of prized possessions I always return with from the Factorium. These new items will be placed into the box inside the drawer marked with my human name, Elissa Longview. The woman I’d once been. More pieces of me to be separated and locked away. Inwardly, I rage with my impotence. But the anger seems less fierce than it used to be. I try to call upon the full flame of my anger. It worries me that I can no longer depend upon its empowering fury to remind me of my losses, to keep me strong.

Later, he will bring out the red velvet box, along with his personal Intellometer. He’ll attach the wires to himself and feed my thoughts into his own mind. He will watch me as he dissects the changes, assimilates them into his own thought processes. Compartmentalizes them in order to access them when he wishes. Sometimes he’ll echo my own words back to me to prove his control even of that part of me he allows to remain mechanically unaltered. When he does that, I feel utterly vulnerable and powerless. Which, of course, is what he wants.

I, who had once dreamed of becoming an engineer and working in the mysterious Factorium, am now simply a product of it. High aspirations for one so lowly born, and an orphan, at that. But I’d almost made it. I would have, if not for my attraction to Minister Kesselbaum—and for his to the young man I’d pretended to be.

I had learned over the last many months to suppress my human thoughts as much as possible, compartmentalizing and locking them away as though they were separate from me, so he couldn’t find them when he assimilated the silver cards I always returned with. It had become a game of sorts, something to live for. A battle of wits against my owner. I think he knows what I do and enjoys the challenge. I can’t hide my body—what is left of it. He owns me in total. One speck of emotion I can secret away is a small battle won.

But my mind is something he hasn’t replaced—at least not yet. There is ongoing research at the Factorium in that area. As far as I know from his discussions at various social functions where the doctors are present, the experiments thus far haven’t been completely successful. I know my time is running out. There will be no glimmer of memory of what I was. But he will have it—there, in that red velvet box—on the sets of cards that one day will contain all I had been.

There are others in that secret vault. Deliveries when his manservant will present him with a box. He will open the package, examine the contents thoroughly and then take them to the hidden room to be assimilated later and locked away. These he will not share with me.

He’s not in the mood for a private concert tonight, but I’ve been given a sheaf of music to memorize. I’m reprieved from that this evening. Tonight there are other games he wishes to engage in, other torments at hand.

I sit in a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing a transparent white lace negligee with matching wrapper trimmed in black satin. The corset beneath rises to just beneath my breasts, forcing them up against the expensive material. My ribs are constrained tightly, forced close. I know he is testing the modifications. Will they yield as they are meant to? Or will they snap the same as my fragile human bones would have done with such tight confinement? My breaths are shallow, painful. The front of the gown dips low, exposing the full curves of my breasts. My silver-tipped nipples shimmer in the firelight. My legs are curled beneath me. I hold myself erect, shoulders straight. Now I am able to breathe. I sip from the glass of golden cognac he has allowed me this evening. Warmth curls in my belly. It helps to mellow the pain.

He sits across the room at his desk, the red velvet box opened, a soft sky blue polishing cloth in his hand. He has already carved his initials—and mine—into the marrow. He lifts out the first piece from the box and holds it up to the light. Instinctively, I brush the fingertips of one hand along my imprisoned ribcage. I want to reach out to snatch the items from the desk, and my fingers curl into a clenched fist against my flesh.

Temperature high here today is set for 48F. Let’s see if we can heat up the week by starting with an excerpt from “Hot Satin & Blood-Red Silk.”

Hot Satin & Blood-Red Silk

Olivia once yearned for love and the perfect marriage. She thought she’d found it when she wed sweet, handsome Ethan, never dreaming his romantic demeanor masked an abusive demon. Through her dreams, Olivia found the courage to leave him. Now, on a cold Valentine’s night, still recovering after the divorce yet feeling empowered once again, Olivia enjoys her freedom from love, with no wish to share this otherwise romantic evening with anyone. But freedom comes at a cost, and Olivia’s frozen heart and hungry soul possess a thirst for something she’s afraid to name. In answer to the call she cannot deny, Martin, her vampire mentor, finally returns to claim his chosen mate. And Olivia is more than ready to pay the price for her darkest passions, and to gain immortality. Karma can be a bitch–just ask Olivia’s ex-husband. But will her bargain with a vampire bring her everything she desires on Valentine’s Day?

Excerpt

It was a decadent display with scatters of black lace inset at the most provocative places. Olivia reached out to touch the molten creation, wanting to convince herself it wasn’t made of liquid fire, the way it shimmered beneath the lone spotlight above.

She closed her eyes as she absorbed its ethereal texture, imagined what it would feel like sliding against her own skin. But reality broke through. When would she ever have the nerve to wear something like this? Why would she want to? It was a garment meant to entice, and that was something she had absolutely no interest in doing. Her glance landed on her hand, on her ring finger, which still showed a shadow of the ring she’d once worn. Alas, she let her hand fall away and the silken mass drifted back to embrace the shapely leg of the inanimate model posed on the dais.

And yet, Olivia couldn’t bring herself to turn away; her feet seemed glued to the spot. She imagined the look of the man she would be willing to don such a sinful garment for. The perfect man–the embodiment of all she had once fantasized about. Before she’d met Ethan. Before he’d dashed all her dreams with the first punch to her stomach.

A whisper of an image formed inside her head. She tried to shove it away. Her skin grew hot at the thought of the touch of her fantasy lover. For the first time in many months her pussy grew wet at the thought of a man touching her. She fought against the image, tightened her thighs, tried to force the sexual heat back into its frozen compartment.

Olivia whipped around, searching for whomever it was that had spoken in that European-accented, sexy voice.

She saw him standing near the jewelry counter. It had to be him. Exquisitely dressed in a black suit, a white silk shirt. Pale skin, glossy black hair, mesmerizing black eyes. Her heartbeat quickened as she met his gaze. Recognition was just beginning to claw its way to the surface of her mind.

Ethan had been blond with light blue eyes and an all-too-easy smile. This man was nothing like Ethan. Ethan had never looked as dangerous as the man staring back at her from the other side of the store. Ethan’s rages had come out of nowhere, always catching her off guard. This man–no one could ever take for granted. Everything about him screamed dangerous.

Predator.

Run, Olivia, run. Her own voice screamed inside her head.

Too late.

The dressing room, Olivia. Go there now.

She knew him. She recognized that voice. Her whole body recognized that voice, not just her mind. She couldn’t help responding. Primed like Pavlov’s dog. This man was inside her mind. Not a new presence, but one that had remained in hibernation all these many months, the memory shielded from awareness.

He hadn’t said a word. She never saw his lips move. And yet she felt compelled–compelled to go to the dressing room. Compelled to do as she was told. Without question.

“Closing time in fifteen minutes. Please complete your shopping and make your way to a cashier.”

Olivia heard the announcement, but it seemed to bear no relationship to her. Instead she moved toward the dressing rooms. None of the sales clerks stopped her. None of them looked at her as she passed them. She focused on making it to the farthest cubicle from the activity in the store.

Silence. Barely a whisper of sound. Perfect.

Olivia slipped inside, closed and locked the door, shutting out the last vestiges of the voices of the clerks and the echoing footsteps of straggling customers in the store. She closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, then opened them again, and stared into the mirror, gazed at her own reflection. He didn’t have to tell her. This was it. She’d waited a long time. Slowly she removed her clothing.

Olivia dropped her purse and then her gloves. Her coat followed. Her black cotton shirt, her black and white checked wool skirt, her white nylon slip.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror–at the lacy white bra and matching satin bikini panties, the nude colored pantyhose. She took inventory of the scars at her hips, her shoulder, her thigh. The slender expensive gold watch on her wrist. A gift from Ethan after her last stay in the hospital for her broken shoulder. She heard the loud chiming of the antique clock at the center of the store. Cinderella came to mind. Time no longer mattered. She didn’t shudder when a cold draft of air skimmed across her skin, like ghosts trampling across her grave. Her nipples puckered. Excitement mounted.

All of it, Olivia. Every last piece.

She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders, glared at her reflection. No fear. Never again.

Her pussy was still wet, soaking the satin of her panties, her lips engorged with blood, sensitive and puffy. It had been a long time since she’d felt this aroused. A very long time. Olivia’s heart was still safely frozen, but her body–her body was on fire.

A vampire with a raging thirst for human blood and erotic pleasure; a man with a secret mission to find and destroy the undead. But lusty midnight passions defy logic. Boundaries and duty hold no sway on the decks of the Night Stalker.

Captain Dontè Lucienne is the vampire captain of the Night Stalker. His crew is human. Men who serve the vampires of Noctra, providing sustenance, as well as loyalty. They are fighters as well as lovers, and devoted to their vampire masters. They would destroy any who tried to kill their captain.

Skye Templeton is a man on a dangerous mission. Plucked from the swelling seas by the crew of the Night Stalker, he’s exactly where he needs to be. Will he come out alive? Or end up as fodder to the lust of the vampirate captain? His duty is clear—at least until he come to know this lusty crew and their magnetic captain. Until he comes under the supernatural, relentless spell of the Night Stalker.

Mix a rescue at sea, a vampire captain, a handsome virile pirate crew, one lone vampire hunter, some nasty zombies, some seductive BDSM, a big boat, and a vast sea.

“Enter,” he roared with the force of a fierce gale. After a moment of hesitation, the door slowly opened. It was Jupiter, his first mate, who edged his way into the cabin. He looked straight at the captain, neither sliding a sidelong glance toward Velvet, nor toward the bed where Vasily, his second mate, was stretched out.

“Permission to speak, Cap’n.”

Donté waved a hand in the air. “What is it? This better be important.”

“We’ve spied someone in the water, sir. The men are about to bring him on board. I thought you’d want to be informed.”

All of Donté’s crew had preternatural eyesight—one of the dark gifts of human service to the vampires of Noctra. Although the black sloop skimmed through the ocean in the dead of night, it might as well have been daylight for their sharp eyesight.

“Does he look promising?” Donté dressed quickly, donning a pair of black breeches and then pulling on a white linen shirt.

“Hard to tell, sir. He was a ways out. Margan send two men out to retrieve him. Looks to be a survivor from another downed ship.”

Was there any other kind this far out to sea? Most of Donté’s crew were survivors from sacrifices to the dangerous, unpredictable seas. Many on the very verge of drowning or being eaten alive by hungry sharks, or worse. Men who’d been thankful for the captain’s beneficence in saving them from a fate far worse than their untimely death in the surging waters.

There’d been a storm the previous night, which might cause a ship to founder. Donté straightened after pulling on the second black leather thigh-high boot.

“Have Liam see to my men, Jupiter.” He glanced over at Velvet. “Leave him for another hour and then release him. In the meantime, take gentle care of Vasily. I’ve fed well and he may be light-headed. I don’t want him up and around before he’s recovered.”

Jupiter nodded. “Yes, Cap’n.”

Donté returned to the bed, leaned down, and kissed Vasily. “Another night, sweeting.” Then he strode out of the cabin, along the passage and headed to the main deck.

As Donté stepped onto the deck Margan and Onyx hauled a very bedraggled man onto the deck with help from several of the sailors. The stranger collapsed against the railing, salt water splashing onto the deck. It was hard to tell much about him considering the exhausted state of the man, but from first glance he certainly looked…intriguing.

The crew made way for the captain to get through. Several of the men held torches, providing a soft glow of light. Donté nudged the half-drowned man with the point of his well-polished black boot. The eyelids of the young man splayed out on the deck fluttered opened. What stunning blue eyes, was Donté first thought. Clear and sparkling like the sea, framed with long sooty lashes. Yes, definitely worth an interrupted hour of his time.

The young man staring up at Donté looked shaken, yet alert.

“What’s your name, lad?”

Donté saw his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Templeton, sir. Skye Templeton. I was on the merchant ship, Topaz, heading back from the West Indies when a storm hit.”

Skye. Donté liked the sound of the name. He dropped down onto his haunches and studied the young man carefully. He pushed back a thick lock of wet hair and Skye shuddered.

“Well, you’re safe now. We’ll get you back to land. What sort of goods were you carrying?”

“Spices, and silks, Captain. All gone down with the ship.”

“So, you’re a merchant then? Or were you perhaps one of the crew?” By the looks of his damaged and wet clothing, he was a gentleman of some means. Even wet they seemed to be a cut of fine quality material.

The look in Skye’s eyes faltered, his glance swiftly taking in the men hovering around, and then flitted back to the captain. One hand moved to his hip. A reflex action. At another time there might have been a pistol, or a sword, perhaps.

Donté’s curiosity was aroused. Was the young man just a merchant, or something more? Skye allowed his hand to drop away. Definitely not a stupid man. Very much a man of some intelligence—and caution. Donté liked that. He had a feeling it might be a bit of a challenge getting this young man to submit and join his crew. As a connoisseur of fine human flesh and blood, just by looking at the self-professed merchant, he bet the young man’s blood was a very expensive vintage of life-giving fluid. Definitely a prize he was not going to toss back to the sea without further careful examination.

Donté straightened to his feet and held out a hand. Skye seemed to consider for a moment and then hesitantly accepted the offer, and Donté easily brought him to his feet. Inches separated them. He could feel the heat of the young man even through the wet, clinging layers of his clothes. He smelled of the salty ocean, of youth, and vitality. Exhausted to be sure, but Donté had a feeling it wouldn’t take much to get him back on his feet.

Donté held his gaze for long moments. The quiet night was broken only by the creaking of the ship and the flapping of the sails in the strong wind. His gaze dropped to Skye’s finely defined lips, traced over the tightly stretched pale skin highlighted in full lunar ambiance and warm firelight. His blue eyes were shadowed, dark half-moons beneath them. If it hadn’t been for that—

Skye stepped away and the spell was broken. Donté could sense the young man’s wariness. But he appeared interested. Maybe intrigued might be a better word.

“Onyx, take our exhausted friend and assign him a berth below. And find him some dry clothes. Check with Nathan and get him something to eat.” He turned back to Skye. “We’ll talk later.”

Onyx stepped forward. “Aye-aye, Cap’n, right away.” He looked at Skye. “Follow me and we’ll get you settled.” He headed toward the companionway that led to the lower decks. Donté watched Skye stumble after him, then he turned back to the rest of the crew.

“Back to work. The night’s still young.” The rest of the men quickly dispersed.

The hold overflowed with bounty and he’d planned to head back to Noctra soon. Maybe a few more days out might not be such a bad thing. It might serve him well to search the area for any other lost souls. Or evidence that a downed ship really had existed.

But right now he had two other sailors who deserved his attention. There were still a few hours left to the evening. He might even release Velvet and allow him into his bed. Donté felt rather pleased just now with the addition of young Skye Templeton. And he was hungry.

His men would not let Skye Templeton out their sights until they could gauge the young man’s intentions. They might try to fuck him for the fun of it, but they would fight to the man to protect their vampire captain. One thing Donté knew he could count on was the loyalty of his crew.

Play hard, fight rough, and yield to their vampire master. Would he gain another willing supplicant? Only time would tell.

Donté opened the polished wooden door to his cabin. Vasily had been unchained and was sitting up on the edge of the bed a glass of wine in one hand and a wedge of cheese in the other. It appeared Liam was just about to attend to the gunner chained to the captain’s wall. Velvet was still bound, his cock deep purple, hard and bobbing, the weight still dancing above the floorboards, his nipples clamped, his body stretched tight, blood pulsing thickly through every fiber. Donté could hear the thundering beat of his heart.

“Thank you, Liam. You may go. I’ll attend to Velvet.”

“Yes, Cap’n.” Without delay Liam left the cabin. Donté watched him leave, admiring the breadth of his shoulders. Another excellent specimen of manhood attached to his crew as his gaze dropped to the sweet, tight ass of the man as he walked out the door. He should make better use of the young carpenter, who happened to be particularly adept with his hands.

As the door closed Donté turned to look at Vasily. His heartbeat was strong as well, not quite as thunderous as Velvet’s, but still sounding fully recovered from his earlier…exertions.

They were both beautifully angelic in their own way, with more of a fallen angel appeal. Both with silky, black braided locks that dusted their shoulders, and bronzed skin from long hours of work on deck during daylight.

Donté took good care of his human servants and they glowed with health and vibrancy. He took great pride in the humans who served him. Loyalty was not something that could be bought or beaten into men. Respect was earned. His men gave trust and loyalty because he respected their humanness. But he ruled his ship with iron command.

It had been a long voyage and everyone was ready to get back to Noctra. Just a few more days and he’d give the order. But not just yet.

He gazed hungrily at his two beautiful young men. “Shall we continue, gentlemen? I suddenly have a voracious appetite once again and I’ll need both of you to satisfy my thirst.”